Redemption
by kat-1991
Summary: Mello's primary objective is, and always has been, to beat Near and claim Kira's head for himself. Each day the ex-Mafioso draws closer and closer to achieving that goal. Working with Hal Lidner is kind of annoying, though, because she's made him start to think that some things are more important than winning. A retelling of the end of Death Note, specifically, of Mello's story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So there was one thing about the end of Death Note that really pissed me off, and that was Mello's death. Well, actually, L's death pissed me off even more, but in hindsight, I guess I understand why that had to happen. If he'd remained alive, the story would've been over far too quickly. But Mello? That was completely unnecessary. As Near pointed out, Mello played a crucial role in outing Kira, and in my opinion, he deserved to bask in the glory of watching Light lose just as much as everybody else. I have decided, therefore, to change the ending of Death Note and make it so that Mello lives. Because that's the beauty of fanfiction. I can do whatever the hell I want

I'm also going to use this grand opportunity to develop the relationship between Mello and Hal Lidner a little further. I enjoyed their interactions in the manga and am absolutely in love with the idea that they both had secret feelings for each other but just never openly admitted it. I am going to start with Mello and Hal's first meeting (an interaction that we readers unfortunately never got to witness) and I plan to end it right where the original series ends, when Kira (finally) meets his doom, only with Mello present this time. The story will be novella-length, probably around 8-10 chapters or so. Maybe more, maybe less. I don't know. At any rate, I hope ya'all enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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Pointless Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters that appear in this story. I wish I did, though. I'd be makin' BANK...

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Chapter One

When Halle stepped into her apartment late that night she knew almost right away that something was wrong.

For starters, her apartment was completely dark. While normally this would be no cause for panic, Halle specifically remembered leaving several lights on earlier that morning before going out. Even more alarming was the shoe print that she discovered on the rug in the doorway almost immediately after turning on the overhead light in the foyer. The sight was so pronounced and so startling that Halle nearly caught her breath.

 _What on earth?_

She bent to inspect the rug, realizing almost immediately that there was no way the print could be hers. The owner of this particular pair of shoes had very large, very wide feet, and while admittedly the print bore a striking resemblance to Halle's own sizable feet, she was positive that there was no way any of her dainty dress shoes could've tracked in such an enormous quantity of mud. That, and she could not recall recently having had any cause to dirty her shoes in the first place.

Halle pursed her lips together in a thin, tight line as she quietly assessed the situation. There was no question that an intruder had been in her apartment at some point during the day. There was also, she knew, a very real possibility that the intruder might still be in the apartment at that very moment. This possibility, however slight, was what drove her to turn her head in the direction of the hallway, her mind set on retrieving the gun that she had hidden away on the top shelf of her bedroom closet. Halle was not typically one to question her gut instincts, and so without giving the matter a second thought she set off down the hall. While she would not deny that she did not particularly like guns, she had always thought it important to have one on hand in case she was ever robbed or attacked. When she had first been assigned to work with Near on the Kira case she had even considered carrying her gun with her in her purse at all times, just as an extra precaution. Some of Halle's fellow female colleagues had laughed at her suggestion, calling her paranoid. Halle had thoroughly disagreed. She knew she wasn't paranoid. She was just playing it safe, and now she found herself wishing more than ever that she had done what she'd initially thought was best and just stuck the gun in her purse before leaving for work in the mornings.

She had taken but a few steps down the hallway when her thoughts were abruptly thrown off course by a _crunch_ -ing sound beneath her feet. She paused to look at what she had stepped on, immediately recognizing the object as a piece of tin foil. Her brow furrowed. The foil had clearly once been part of a candy wrapper. A chocolate bar, maybe? Before Halle could begin to ponder the meaning of this bizarre discovery, she was startled by a sudden _thud_ that emanated from somewhere near the back of her apartment. Instantly she jerked her head in the direction of the sound, her senses on high alert.

"Who's there?" she called into the darkness.

No one replied.

Halle straightened, her entire body tensing with apprehension. She held her breath, half hoping she would hear the sound again, half hoping she wouldn't. She waited for what felt like several minutes, and when she was met with nothing but silence she took a deep breath and continued treading cautiously in the direction of the sound, her heart pounding wildly. When she placed a hand on the wall to steady herself she heard the _thud_ a second time. Instantly she came to a halt as she was struck with the horrifying realization that defending herself with her gun wasn't going to be an option because the intruder was _inside her room_.

"Who's there?" she shouted, taking extra care not to allow her voice to sound as uneasy as she felt. "Show yourself!"

She froze when she heard a cough, her eyes glued fixedly to the open doorway of her bedroom at the end of the hall. Another long moment of silence stretched, and Halle felt her face heat with a sudden rush of anger at the knowledge that the intruder was toying with her.

"I said _show yourself_!" Although she was very afraid, she knew that she needed to do everything she could to make the intruder think she had the upper hand. "I'm going to give you to the count of five, and if you don't come out I swear I will-"

"All right, _all right,_ " a snide, arrogant male voice drawled ominously from somewhere inside her bedroom. "Jeez. And people say _I'm_ pushy..."

Halle heard yet another _thud_ , followed by a jumbling noise that almost made it sound as though the intruder was sifting through a pile of garbage.

 _Did that son of a bitch ransack my room_?

The thought briefly crossed Halle's mind, but she promptly pushed it aside. That wasn't important right now. What was important was finding out what this person wanted so that she could get him the hell out of her apartment. The clashing sounds of clutter being pushed aside lasted but a few seconds, and just as Halle was beginning to formulate possibilities as to who the intruder might be, he did as she had requested and emerged from within the shadows of the dark room ahead. A figure filled the doorway, and though most of the rooms in the apartment were still pitch black, Halle found that the light she had turned on in the foyer illuminated the hallway just enough to allow her to make out the most prominent features of the man before her.

He was wearing all black, save for his brown leather combat boots, an ensemble that made him look tough, though the way he was clutching the frame of the door was, to Halle, a sure indication that he was likely in at least somewhat of a weakened state. He certainly did his best to feign strength, however, and while others certainly might have missed such a minor detail, Halle had been trained to be extremely perceptive and was able to recognize almost right away that he was probably not in the best of shape, despite having such a tall, lean and healthy looking figure. At first glance one might have deemed him "fit," though Halle believed a more accurate description would have been "boyish." His hair was blonde and stringy, just long enough to barely graze his shoulders, and if Halle had to guess, she would say it had probably been awhile since he'd washed it. His most noteworthy feature was not his hair, however, but the piercing blue eye that was watching Halle with such an intensity that it was almost unsettling. It reminded her, she quickly realized, of her boss, Near, only this boy's gaze was far more scrutinizing, and as he continued to stare back at her, Halle briefly wondered why he was standing so that only his right profile was visible to her. The left side of his face was covered by one of his hands (both of which were fitted in black leather gloves) and when long at last he moved to take a step toward her he stumbled, almost like he was drunk. He recovered quickly, though, letting out a low, throaty laugh that made Halle start.

"Halle Bullock. Just the woman I came to see."

Halle took a step back, her mouth agape. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

That was what she said, but in her mind she was screaming: _He_ _knows my name. My_ real _name._ The intruder sneered menacingly, and Halle could feel her brow beginning to sweat. How was this even possible? Nearly everyone she knew - including Near and her two remaining colleagues at the SPK - called her by her alias, Hal Lidner. There were very few, in fact, that knew her by any other name, save for her close friends and family. For years her true name had been protected by the U.S. government, and yet somehow this man - or rather, this _boy -_ had managed to find out precisely who she was and had not even bothered to try and hide it. What's more, he had said her name in what Halle had perceived as a tantalizing tone, indicating that he believed knowing her name gave him some kind of leverage over her.

 _He must have a Death Note in his possession._ She suppressed a gasp as suddenly she realized the fullness of what that could mean. _If that's true, then there's a very good chance that this boy-_

"What do I want? Heh. That's easy."

The intruder paused then, his expression changing from one of animosity to one of shock and horror, and before Halle could even begin to wonder what was happening to him he abruptly dropped to his knees, doubling over, his forehead pressed to the floor. He clenched his hands into fists, howling miserably in what she could only presume was pain.

" _Fuck._ " He cursed through gritted teeth, grabbing fistfulls of his own hair. He pulled them so hard that for moment Halle feared he might rip them straight from their roots. "Jesus fucking _Christ_ that hurts _..._ "

Halle watched on silently as he continued to writhe in pain, torn between the question of whether or not she ought to help him. She knew now beyond a shred of a doubt who he was, and that knowledge was enough to ease her wariness of him, to the point where she found herself feeling more concerned for his condition than she was fearful of what he might do to her.

"Are...are you all right?" She slowly began to approach him with her hand outstretched, but immediately withdrew when he swiped violently at her with both of his arms.

"Get _back!_ " he snarled. "I said _get_ -"

He trailed off as he realized he had exposed his face to her. He moved quickly to cover it again, but it was too late. Halle had already seen.

"You're Mello."

It was a statement, not a question, and though he didn't reply, Halle was more than confident that her assertion was correct. The burn mark she had just seen on the left side of his face was what confirmed her suspicions, though for the last several minutes she had been almost certain that she had finally come face to face with her boss's greatest rival. She knew Mello's story - how he had grown up with Near in an orphanage founded for the sole purpose of creating geniuses - and she knew exactly what had happened to him to give him the burn that now marked the left side his face. From what Halle understood, he was very lucky to be alive. In fact, Near had stated multiple times that it was likely Mello had not survived the incident. Somehow Halle had known better, though.

It took a few moments for Mello to recover from his bout of pain, but when long at last he stood he let his hand fall away from his face, and when Halle looked at him then she found that she had to fight to keep her expression neutral. She wanted to cringe, not because his scar was hideous - even though it _was_ \- but because of how painful it looked. It started somewhere near the inner corner of his left eye, trailing across his face and down his neck, to God only knew where else. Halle resisted the urge to react, however, and continued to regard him with a stoic expression.

"Are you surprised?" Mello asked her after she had taken in the entirety of his appearance.

Halle blinked as she strove to keep her visage as expressionless as she could possibly manage. "Surprised to see you here?" she said. "Yes. Surprised that you're alive? No."

Mello smirked, clearly pleased with her answer. "Hmph. Well it's nice to know someone has at least a little faith in my abilities." He turned away from her then, reaching into his deep pockets and producing a half-eaten chocolate bar. "Near thought I was dead, didn't he?"

Halle considered her words carefully before responding. She knew how deeply Mello hated Near, and she knew that even the slightest comment from Near, whether intentionally malicious or not, could send him into a blind rage, and although she no longer regarded Mello as an immediate threat, she still didn't think it wise to anger him.

"He said it was likely you had perished in the explosion," she began, but Mello cut her off before she could continue.

"Pfft, more like he was hoping. That way I'd be out of the picture and there'd be nobody left to screw with his plan. But, as it stands, I am still very much alive." He locked eyes with Halle again, chuckling as he used his teeth to snap off a piece of the chocolate bar. "I can't wait to hear the disappointment in his voice when he finds out. In fact, why don't you go call him now?"

Halle opened her mouth, then closed it. She had been about to tell him that she sincerely doubted Near would be disappointed - Near had told her on multiple occasions that he actually liked Mello and wished he didn't have to compete with him - but decided it was best to keep her mouth shut and avoid getting into an unnecessary argument. She gave Mello an affirmative nod and moved to return to the foyer so that she could retrieve her phone from her purse. She had taken but a few steps when she stopped as she heard a very distinct _click-_ ing sound behind her right ear. She took a deep breath - she knew that sound all too well - and was not the least bit surprised when she turned to find a gun pointed at her.

She scowled, her eyes flashing angrily. "Just what exactly do you think you're-"

"On second thought, don't call him. I have an even better idea."

He paused, wincing again in pain. "I've been thinking," he resumed after it had subsided, "and I came to realize that at this point the best way to beat Near is by infiltrating his organization from the inside out. I need to know what he's planning - what his next moves are going to be - and the most effective way to get that sort information is by prying it straight from the mouths of his agents. Or, well, one agent, in this case. And I chose _you_ for that job." The look he gave her then was nothing short of devilish, though Halle could not bring herself to take him too seriously, since he was still gnawing mercilessly on that chocolate bar.

"I want to work with you, Hal," he said before she could even begin to form a response. "And by 'work with you,' I mean to propose a sort of truce. You tell me what Near's next moves are, I tell you what I know about the Death Note. I won't kill you, you won't kill me." He considered. "Well, not that you could even if you tried, but-"

Halle interrupted him. "Are you saying you want to form an alliance with me?"

He gave a small shrug. "Of sorts. Although, I guess you can't really call it an alliance if one of the parties has no choice in the matter. Which," he tightened his grip on the gun, "you don't, I'm afraid."

Halle cast her eyes downward, carefully considering what few options she still had. Although she knew she had every reason to see Mello as her enemy, she found in that moment that she simply couldn't. She had never met him before today, but what little she did know of him was enough to tell her that the most sensible thing to do would be to comply with whatever he asked, let him leave and then immediately phone Near afterward and tell him all that had happened. Mello was a criminal, after all, and seeing as he was in direct competition with Near, it would be a complete betrayal of her boss to let the incident pass without informing him of it.

Or would it?

Halle studied the blonde boy in front of her. Despite his steadfast determination to capture Kira before Near could, Halle regarded him not so much as a hostile, but rather, as boy who was caught up in a giant mess, the very same mess that she and Near were currently fighting to fix. Like Near, this boy was also, by all rights, a genius, and though Halle was aware of all the atrocities that he had committed in order to gain recognition in the race to capture Kira, she sincerely believed that, at the end of the day, he was still on the same side that she and Near were. This train of thought was what lead her to make the decision to work with Mello without protest.

"You can put your gun away," she told him. "I may work with Near, but I'm no enemy to you."

Mello bit off more of his chocolate bar, his expression neutral. "Oh, on the contrary, you are."

Halle narrowed her eyes at him. "Says who?"

"Says _me_. I know you're aware of my history with Near-"

"I care nothing for your rivalry with Near. The only thing I care about, at this point, is capturing that murderer Kira. And that is what you and Near are both aiming to do, is it not?"

Mello paused in mid-chew, gaping at her, though he said nothing. Halle cast him a smirk, satisfied that she had managed to catch him off guard for once. "The way I see it," she said, "we're all after the same goal. Therefore, helping you is in no way a betrayal of Near-"

"Not a betrayal?" Mello's eyes widened, his voice incredulous. "I came here fully prepared to debate you - to even use force, if I had to - but instead of resisting me and defending Near you agreed to my proposal without so much as a single argument. That's a betrayal if I've ever seen one. No." He shook his head. "That's straight up fucking treason!"

Halle was unfazed. "Again, so you say. I happen to think differently."

Mello chewed quietly for several moments, his eyes distant, as though in deep thought. Then finally, he shrugged and lowered his gun. "Suit yourself, I suppose. Hmm. Who would've thought Near's minions would be so reasonable?"

His tone was careless, almost nonchalant, but the words cut through Halle like a knife, and before she had fully registered what she was doing she found herself taking several angry, threatening steps in Mello's direction, momentarily forgetting that he had a weapon and she did not.

"I am _not_ Near's minion." Her words were icily calm, though in reality she was so furious that she was biting her tongue in order to keep from shouting at him. "I'm an employee of the U.S. Intelligence Agency, and I work for the SPK not because I worship Near, but because I was appointed to do so." She paused, her face softening as she thought of all her colleagues that had been killed by the Death Note last week, presumably by the very person who now stood before her. They had truly been good and honorable men and women. Many of them had even had families. Halle shut her eyes tightly, straining not to let weakness seep from her voice as she said, "You may hate Near, but not everyone who is connected to him is deserving of your scorn. You will do well to remember that in the future."

She expected Mello to appear triumphant in what had clearly been an attempt to upset her. Much to her shock, however, he didn't. If anything, he looked taken aback by her emotional reaction, almost uncomfortable, as though there was a part of him that wanted to flee from her and never look back. This struck Halle as odd, and for a moment she could have sworn that she almost detected a hint of sympathy (Maybe regret?) in his eyes. Almost. The emotion (whatever it was) quickly dissolved from his face, however, and was immediately replaced with an unambiguous scowl.

"Hmph. So you agree to my terms, then?"

Halle arched an eyebrow. "Agree? I thought you said I didn't have a choice."

Mello growled. He aimed his gun at her again, though somehow Halle knew that the threat was empty.

"You are not to tell anyone of this meeting," he snapped. "Do you understand me?"

Halle gave a cool, curt nod. "Yes," she said, finding that she actually meant every word she was saying. "I won't say anything to anyone."

If Mello sensed the sincerity of her oath he most certainly did not let on. If anything, he appeared to think the opposite was the case. He did not break eye contact with her, and he did not lower his gun.

"Not good enough. You have to swear."

 _Oh, I have to swear, do_ _I?_ Halle resisted the urge to smirk at the utter childishness of his demand. Now that she thought about it, she considered that perhaps everyone was wrong when they called Mello the "more dangerous, more adult version of Near." Maybe that wasn't true at all. Maybe deep down, Mello really was just as much of a boy as Near.

 _How interesting. What will he have it be?_ she wondered sarcastically. _A_ _blood contract? A pinky swear, maybe?_

She held back an amused chuckle. As tempting as the idea of mocking him was, though, ultimately she decided it was better not to test the waters. She was still at the other end of his gun, after all, and in the past Near had warned her that Mello had the tendency to snap when provoked. And so as usual, Halle Bullock chose to take the safe route.

"I swear, I will not speak of this meeting to anyone," she said. "And that includes the people I contact who are outsiders to the Kira case."

Mello heaved a deep sigh. He sounded truly exhausted, Halle thought, and for a moment she found herself wondering not just how long it had been since he'd had a shower, but since he'd had a decent night of sleep. He brought his free hand back up to rest lightly against the scarred side of his face, almost like he was easing the pain of a headache as opposed to that of a searing burn.

"How do I know I can trust you?" He sounded almost weary as he said it.

Halle cocked her head to one side. "I don't know. How do _I_ know I can trust _you_?"

Again Mello's eyes locked with hers, and again Halle met his penetrating gaze with a calm, emotionless stare. They stayed this way for what felt like a long time - several minutes, Halle was sure - so long that it came as somewhat of a relief when finally Mello snorted and said, "You can't."

And that, it appeared, was all he had left to say. After casting one final glare in Halle's direction he swept past her, taking extra care not to touch or even so much as brush her arm as he made his way down the hall. He did knock his left (probably injured) shoulder into the wall several times, however, cursing under his breath as he continued to saunter clumsily towards the exit, his gun still grasped tightly in one hand. He did not look back, nor did he bother to close the door behind him as he left.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Images flashed rapidly before Matt's goggled eyes on the small flat television screen in front of him. A lit cigarette rested between his teeth, his brow knit with concentration as he struggled, for the third time that evening, to complete a mission in Grand Theft Auto IV, his most current video game obsession.

" _Damn_ that was close! Okay, we've got this. Come on, baby, come on. Go, go, go, go, go...aww, SHIT! No, no, no, no, stop, stop, stop...argh, DAMN IT!"

The words "mission failed" were displayed tauntingly across the screen, and Matt uttered a string of profanity as he threw his XBOX controller down on the floor. "I almost had it, too! Fucking cops _._ I'll teach you to mess with me!"

He was still shaking his fist and shouting senselessly at the screen when his apartment door unexpectedly burst open. Cold air blew in through the doorway, and Matt shivered as he turned and watched his blonde-haired friend trudge dazedly through the living room and throw himself down on the couch that was opposite to the recliner where Matt had been sitting. The newcomer groaned as he lay his head back against the arm of the couch, reaching into his pocket with one hand and producing two white pills - painkillers, Matt presumed - that he promptly popped into his mouth and swallowed. The goggled boy frowned as he noted the gun his friend was clutching possessively in his other hand that was now hanging limply over the side of the couch. He shook his head disapprovingly. _Just what kind of trouble has Mello gotten into tonight?_ Much as he wanted to ask, Matt had spent more than enough time around Mello to know that if he were to outright blurt such a question, the chances that he would get a straight answer - or any answer at all - were slim to none.

Matt rubbed his hands together as the frigid air began to permeate the room. "Jeez," he said. "Would it've killed you to close the door? It's freezing outside."

He walked over to the door and slammed it shut, locking the deadbolt securely into place. As he adjusted the two remaining locks - one chain at the bottom of the door and one at the top - he made sure to take his time, waiting patiently for his friend to get comfortably situated. The leather-clad boy gave no indication of replying, however, and when at last Matt whirled around to face him he sighed. Sometimes getting Mello to talk was damn near as arduous as pulling teeth, and tonight, Matt could tell, was going to be no exception. Mello's eyes were closed and he had one hand draped over the left side of his face. As Matt studied him he found himself wondering why he rested in that position. Was it because there was a part of him that was ashamed of the scar? Again, Matt would've liked to ask Mello such a question, but again, he knew that his chances of receiving an answer were nil, and so instead of prying he turned his attention to the gun that was still resting in Mello's hand, deciding almost immediately that that was probably as good of a conversation starter as any. Mello loved to talk about his gun, after all, almost as much as he loved waving it around in the faces of poor, unsuspecting people.

"Please don't tell me you walked the entire way here looking like that."

Mello's piercing blue eyes shot open as he glanced over his shoulder at Matt. His expression quickly shifted from one of genuine confusion to one of anger and annoyance. "The hell do you mean?" he demanded tersely. "Looking like what?"

"Like _that_." Matt nodded conspicuously at the gun.

Mello glanced down at the weapon in his hand. For a moment Matt could've sworn he actually looked surprised.

"Yeah." Mello shrugged, placing the gun down on the floor and gingerly sliding it beneath the couch. "And?"

Matt tapped his fingers rhythmically against his arm. "And...nobody called the police?"

Mello scowled. He imitated Matt's stance by crossing his own two arms tightly across his chest. "Why would they?" he huffed.

"Why would they?" Matt echoed. He scratched his head thoughtfully. "Um, gee, I don't know. Maybe because the average U.S. citizen is likely unaccustomed to seeing a death metal band member prowling through the streets in the dead of night with a Beretta at his side-"

"Death metal band member?" Mello cut him off, deadpan. "Seriously, Matt?"

Matt offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Mello, but as your friend I think it's high time I told you that that getup makes you look like a wanna-be punk high school kid-"

"High school?" Now Mello sounded very irritated. "The hell are you talking about? I've never even set foot in a high school. Neither have you."

"No," Matt admitted, "but I've heard a lot about it, and from what I gather, the kids that everybody normally hates are the ones who go around dressing all in black, making angry faces at people, acting like they're a bunch of badass bitches-"

"I appreciate your concern, Matt," Mello interjected, his voice cool and impassive, "but the difference is that I actually _am_ a badass bitch."

A short moment of silence stretched between them, and then Matt couldn't take it anymore. He burst into laughter. Mello smirked over at him, indicating that that had been his intended reaction all along. Even as he laughed, though, Matt was more than aware of the bitter truth behind his friend's words. Mello was indeed a "badass bitch," or at least, far more so than your average punk wanna-be. He had recently belonged to a notorious mafia group in Los Angeles - he'd one of their leaders, in fact, and Matt knew that Mello had considered the position a real honor. He had been forced to abandon that life, however, when most (if not all) of the men in his mafia family had been killed in the explosion that had given him the scar he now bore on the left side of his face.

Matt's mind reeled with curiosity. He was dying to know the details of Mello's mafia life, but he knew from past experience that it was not a subject Mello was willing to openly discuss, and so yet again Matt managed to kill his inquisitive nature by directing the conversation elsewhere.

"All right, all right. Fair enough," he said, holding up his hands in an "I surrender" sort of gesture. "But getting back to what we were discussing earlier: You really _do_ need to be more careful with that gun when you're in public. I was serious when I asked if anybody called the police. Do you think it's possible someone might've seen you?"

Mello heaved an exasperated sigh. "I don't know. Anything's possible, I guess. I honestly wasn't paying much attention to the people I passed. I never do. I don't care enough."

"Well, maybe you should start caring," Matt replied seriously. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to get this place?" He used his hands to make a sweeping gesture over the room. "I mean, I know the location isn't exactly ideal, but if the cops find us-"

"If the cops find us," Mello retorted, "then you'll finally get to fulfill your fantasy of outwitting them. Who knows? Maybe you'll even get that car chase you've been hoping for."

An image popped into Matt's head then, an image of him speeding down the streets of New York City in his red Camaro, weaving in and out of traffic as a line of police cars trailed behind him in what was clearly a futile pursuit. He grinned broadly. "I'll admit," he said, "it _is_ on my bucket list."

"Then quit freaking out, would you? Everything's fine. Jeez..."

After that Mello put both of his hands behind his head, sighing contentedly as he crossed one booted foot over the other and closed his eyes. Matt clicked his tongue, shaking his head to himself as he retrieved his XBOX controller from where he had thrown it down on the floor earlier. He resumed the game, waiting several minutes - just long enough to give Mello some breathing time but not quite long enough for him to actually fall asleep - before picking the conversation back up again.

"You know," he said, raising his voice to a much louder volume so that Mello would be sure to hear him over the game music, "you never did tell me what's on yours."

Mello didn't even open his eyes. "Nn?"

"Your bucket list."

"Hm? Oh." Mello's voice dropped. His disinterest in the topic was apparent. "I think you know the answer to that better than anyone. I want to catch Kira before Near does-"

Matt cut in then, his voice low and monotonous as he drawled what he knew would be the rest of Mello's response.

"And to prove to the world once and for all that you're number one and he's the runner-up." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I've heard the speech a gazillion times."

Mello gave a slight shrug. "You asked."

"Yeah." Matt's tone was disappointed. "I guess I was just hoping your answer would be a little more exciting."

"Exciting?" Mello did open his eyes then, turning to face Matt as he fixed him with a glare that bordered on hostility. "What could _possibly_ be more exciting than proving yourself to be worthy of succeeding the world's greatest detective?"

Matt didn't turn his attention away from the game as he mumbled, "Lots of things, in my opinion."

"Like _what_?" Mello shot back.

"Like...oh, I don't know." Matt's eyes darted upward for the briefest of moments as he considered. "Maybe...climb a mountain?"

Mello scoffed. " _Climb a mountain_? The hell would I want to do _that_ for? Come to think of it, why would _anybody_ want to do that? You make the climb, you almost get killed half a dozen times, you get to the top, and then what? You take a few pictures and you climb back down. Then you go home and brag to everyone you know about what you did. There. That's it. It's trivial. It's insane. It's _stupid_. I mean, what was the purpose?"

"I don't know." Matt grinned sheepishly. "Adventure?"

Mello snorted.

"Okay, okay. Bad example. Um...maybe...see the pyramids?"

"The pyramids? You mean those heaping piles of useless limestone in Egypt?"

Matt resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. "Okay, then. How about...learn another language?"

"Already know five."

"Right. Uh. Get a tattoo?"

"Says the one who was just telling me I need to tone down the intimidation."

"Good point. Um. Write a book?"

"Pointless."

"Go on a hot air balloon ride?"

"A frivolous activity reserved for simple-minded twits."

"Run a marathon?"

"Stupid."

"Fall in love?"

Mello paused, his mouth slightly ajar, his expression unreadable. He seemed almost taken aback by the question. Then, in the blink of an eye, his face went sour. "I think you pulled that one off _your_ bucket list," he spat.

Matt smiled guiltily. "Maybe. So what, though?" he defended. "Don't sit there all high and mighty and act like you've never wondered what it'd be like to have a girl."

Mello suddenly became very interested in playing with the Velcro on his leather gloves. "I haven't, actually," he replied coolly.

Matt turned to give him a sly look. "You have so."

"Have not."

"Oh come on, Mells. Fess up. You can't honestly expect me to believe that you've never had a crush in all your life." He brightened as he was struck suddenly with a new thought. "What about Sarah? You used to talk to her all the time. To this day I'm still convinced you had a thing for her-"

"Sarah?" Mello blinked at his friend in bewilderment. "You mean that blonde girl from Wammy's House? Pfft. Please, Matt. She was hardly intelligent enough for my taste. Now that you mention it, I don't even know what she was doing there-"

"So you admit that you have a type?"

Mello's face fell, only to be immediately replaced with an expression of sheer indignation when he looked at Matt and saw his eyebrows shoot upward. "Now just hang on one fucking minute. I never said-"

"What about your mafia days?" Matt pressed. He was teasing him now more than he was anything else. "I'm willing to bet that there were at least _some_ cute girls in L.A.-"

"Cute girls?" Mello sneered at his friend. "Oh yes, how absentminded of me. How could I ever fail to tell you about _the prostitutes_?"

Matt felt his eyes widen. He made sure to keep his gaze focused fixedly on the screen as a blush began to creep across his face. _Damn it,_ he thought. _He knew I was going to react this way._ _I should've never even said anything._ _Then again, how the hell was I supposed to know?! Damn my shyness._

"Err...well," he stuttered awkwardly. "That is, I...you...I mean... _really_?"

Mello was still smiling smugly at his friend's visible discomfort. "Yeah," he replied casually. "Really. For almost four years they were pretty much the only women I ever saw."

"Um...were they...did you...I mean-"

Mello interrupted him. "No," he said, apparently having decided to spare him any further embarrassment. "I never so much as thought about getting involved with one of them. Granted, that might've been because I knew most of them had been with that disgusting son of a bitch Rod, but even if that weren't the case I still sincerely doubt I would've bothered."

Matt gave his head a slight shake as gunfire and police sirens began emanating from the speakers on the TV. "You must have some killer self control, then," he remarked.

"Pfft. Hardly. I just didn't care enough." Mello shrugged as he was pulling a chocolate bar from one of his pant pockets. Matt watched him out of the corner of his eye, biting back a chuckle as he realized that that was probably the longest stretch of time he had ever seen his friend go without feeling the need to indulge in chocolate.

"The way I see it," Mello continued as he began tearing at the tin foil on the candy wrapper, "all men lust after something or another. Some men lust after women. Others - like that asshole Rod - lust after power and money." He bit off his first piece of chocolate, and the brittle _snap_ that followed was almost enough to make Matt wince. "As for me? I lust to achieve success. I'll beat Near by any means necessary. I don't care what it takes."

Matt continued to keep his attention on the screen, grateful that the game sounds were enough to mostly drown out Mello's chewing. _Whatever you say_ _, Mells,_ he thought. _If_ _we're being totally honest with ourselves, though, the truth is that you_ _lust mostly after chocolate._ He held back a laugh as a memory entered his mind, a memory of a time at Wammy's House where a young boy had teased Mello, jeering that, if he loved chocolate so much, why didn't he just marry it already? Of course, Mello had promptly punched the boy in the gut, and Matt had found that he had to fight to keep from laughing even then. While he had always known that Mello was a bit odd - everyone who grew up in Wammy's House had more than their fair share of strange quirks - Matt did not believe for one minute that his friend was incapable of feeling and showing love. Although, he did have to admit that he doubted it was possible for Mello to care for anyone or anything as much as he did chocolate. That, in truth, would probably be asking too much, and consequently, Matt figured that maybe it was better his friend wasn't all that interested in girls.

"Yeah. I get that," he said finally in reply. "Still. You can't honestly expect me to believe that in all your life you've never even once looked at a girl and thought, 'Wow, she's really pretty!'"

Mello glowered at him. "Don't be absurd, Matt. Of course I have. As I said, I've just never cared enough to act on it. Besides, I already told you that most of the women I knew in the mafia were Rod's whores. And I wouldn't touch that shit with a ten foot pole."

Matt whistled at his friend's abrasiveness. " _Damn,_ Mello, you've really got it out for that Rod guy. He couldn't be as bad as you make it seem."

"No," Mello agreed. "He was worse. Much worse."

"Didn't I hear you saying once that he was like a father to you or something?"

Mello cast him a dour look. "Yeah. But so what? It's not exactly unheard of for a man to hate his own father, now is it?"

Matt paused, momentarily stunned by the bitterness in his friend's voice. "Touché, my friend," he murmured. "Touché."

"Which is why I was more than willing to leave that life behind without looking back," Mello explained. "There was nothing left for me there. I used those guys to help me acquire the Death Note, and while that plan admittedly didn't go exactly how I would've liked," he gestured grimly at the scar on his left cheek, "I was done with them by that point anyway. They'd served their purpose."

Matt was silent for several minutes. He wanted more than anything to voice aloud what he was thinking in his head - _Is that how you see me too, Mello? As disposable? As just another means to an end? -_ but knew better than to do so. Mello would undeniably find the idea insulting, and while Matt trusted his friend enough to not allow himself to give the thought much merit, whenever it did happen to cross his mind he couldn't help but shudder. As hot-headed and emotional as Mello often was, he could truly be a cold and heartless monster when he needed to be.

"Speaking of women." Matt perked up suddenly as a new thought crossed his mind. "How'd it go with that Hal lady, anyway? Not good, I'm guessing, since you stumbled in here with that gun practically glued to your hip."

Another _snap_ -ping sound resonated as Mello continued munching on his chocolate bar. "No. It went pretty well, actually," he said in between chews. "She agreed to work with us. She didn't argue, and she didn't even try to put up a fight-"

"Well, I don't think I would either if I had _that_ thing," Matt nodded at the barrel of Mello's gun that was protruding from beneath the couch, "pointed at my head."

Mello ignored him as he took an enthusiastic bite - _T_ _oo enthusiastic_ , Matt thought, cringing - of what appeared to be his last piece of chocolate. "She was pretty compliant, overall. Civilized, even. I made my demands, and she accepted them. In truth, the gun probably wasn't even necessary."

For a moment Matt was at a loss for words. "You mean to tell me that a CIA agent is totally cool with the idea of giving _you_ information behind her boss's back?" He shook his head skeptically. "Sorry, Mells, but I don't buy it."

"Normally I would agree with you, but I think we can trust her."

Matt frowned. This was not at all like the Mello he knew, the Mello who, for the past several weeks, had been plagued by constant anxiety and paranoia. "Really?" he asked. "What makes you so sure?"

Mello crumbled up the empty foil wrapper from his chocolate bar and tossed it carelessly over one shoulder. "She doesn't seem to have any real allegiance to Near. She made it clear that she's only working for him because she was hired to. Her primary objective is - and always has been - to ensure that Kira is captured. The way she sees it, helping me and Near simultaneously will be beneficial to the investigation as a whole."

"Hm." Matt nodded in immediate understanding. "Now there's some food for thought. I guess approaching her as opposed to those other guys was a good move, huh?"

Mello abruptly stopped as he was raising a new chocolate bar toward his mouth, pausing to shoot his friend a grave look. "Let's hope so, Matt," he said. "Because at this point, I can't exactly afford to make another huge mistake, now can I?"

Matt turned his head away from the screen then, taking a moment to really study Mello's face. His eyes were slightly narrowed; he looked determined and confident, as usual, but there was something else in his gaze that Matt detected: weariness. And Matt didn't blame him one iota for it. He'd been fighting so hard to keep his spot in the race to capture Kira, and while admittedly he bore most of the responsibility for the tragedy that had befallen him, Matt couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for his friend. Because, at the end of the day, he really was just a kid, a kid who - like Matt and Near - had been forced to make some big decisions very quickly, and while a lot of Mello's choices may not have been the best or the most morally sound, Matt was convinced that deep down he really was not a bad person. He knew Mello, after all - he'd grown up with him - and he knew that everything he did had a distinct purpose. He also knew that, at his core, Mello was not the type of person who would set out with the deliberate intention of committing an evil act. It just wasn't who he was. If it were, Matt was convinced that their friendship would have never lasted as long as it had.

"No," he agreed somberly. "You really can't. And that's why I think you need to be careful with this Hal lady. Are you going to see her again soon?"

Mello leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe later next week. I need to rest now, though, or I'll never get my strength back. So do me a favor and shut your freaking pothole, would you? Jeez."

Matt's lips twitched to form the smallest of smiles. "Sure thing, Mello. Whatever you say."


End file.
